


Lighting Up a Room

by Robben



Category: 19th Century CE RPF, American Civil War RPF, Historical RPF, Political RPF - US 19th c.
Genre: 19th Century, 3rd Person Limited, American Civil War, Gen, historical fiction - Freeform, mostly based on actual historical events, one shot for now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 01:38:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6218530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robben/pseuds/Robben
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a terrible first impression is made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lighting Up a Room

Colonel Richard Oglesby had been having a horrible day so far. Stationed in the pestilent mud-hole that was Cairo, Illinois, dealing with idiotic superiors, trying to survive being buried under a mountain of paperwork, all while trying (somehow) to run a part of the war that was looking like it was going nowhere. He was just glad that it was supposed to be over soon. He’d been notified not too long ago that someone else would be taking over. Some ex-Army captain named Grant. He’d not heard of him before, though some old regulars said that the reason he had resigned from the army was to escape court martial for drunkenness. Whatever. With all that he was putting up with now, he figured it wouldn’t be long before _he_ had a drinking problem.

  
He didn’t know when Grant would come in. Coming from St. Louis, it wouldn’t be long, thank God. He’d just finished what he had _thought_ was the last of the paperwork for re-assigning the depressingly ignorant captain of the USS Lexington, only to discover that there was still more. Oglesby lowered his head onto his desk. Had anyone ever been driven to commit suicide because of paperwork? His aide comforted him with a pat on the back, and, more importantly, a freshly brewed cup of coffee. He had just gotten up the courage to start the next part (it's for the good of the service, he told himself. The fool thinks that beaching the ships would be a great way to take over Columbus) when the door opened, and a man walked into his "headquarters", the town bank. He supposed it counted as being the least shoddy building in town. Anyway, this man was decidedly average in every possible. He was short, stocky, with a long beard, and dressed in a coat that once upon a time might have been navy blue, complete with muddy pants. The ensemble was completed by a ruddy face with a long, sandy beard and a shapeless hat. He went back to work. If this man needed something, one of his aides would probably take care of it. Likely some Copperhead civilian complaining about some supposed atrocity that the federal government had inflicted upon him and his poor, humble family.

  
He wrote a little more, and heard footsteps. Much to his surprise, he found the man ignoring his aides and coming to straight to him. Very well. Oglesby sighed. The man must think his case so important to appeal to the officer in charge. He'd had too many of those to count. He'd had to deal with a host of complaints from civilians, on top of the paperwork he had to do. “Army men robbed my chicken coup”, one would say. “Damned vandals tore down my fence and used it for firewood”, whined another. It was enough to give Oglesby a headache just thinking about it. He returned his attention to his current "concerned citizen" just in time for him to stop talking. Oglesby froze. The man looked at him expectantly. Oglesby stared back. Shit. “Well,,,Mister, I’ll be sure to, uh... get right on that. As you can see, we have a lot to do around here, so it might be a while before we get to it. If you want, you can wait around a while until I get done so I can get to the bottom of it personally with you.” With that, Oglesby got back to work, hoping that he would just leave, having (apparently) said his piece. He was not reassured when the man sat down in the corner. More useless, time-wasting work. Ah, the life of being a government bureaucrat.

  
Time passed. An hour, maybe two. Suddenly, he heard footsteps again, and before he could look up, the man was back at his desk, taking a sheet of paper, a pen, and heading back to his spot in the corner. Oglesby shrugged. He probably just wanted to put his complaint in writing. Made it easy to file away and forget about, if nothing else. Back to work. Footsteps again. What else could the guy want? A fucking seal of approval? He looked up, and the man was shoving the piece of paper under his nose. He took it, grudgingly, and starting reading. I, Brigadier General U.S. Grant, do hereby take command of the military district of…..shit. He looked at the paper. Looked at the profoundly ordinary man in dusty clothing. Back at the paper. He’d just kept his first-day-on-the-job C.O. waiting for over an hour. So much for good first impressions….

**Author's Note:**

> This particular episode was inspired by a story out of the biography I'm reading on Grant right now. It pretty much happened as described here. Grant comes in dressed in civvies, introduces himself. Guy doesn't catch his name, keeps working. Grant sits down in the corner and waits quietly, eventually going back to the guy, taking some paper, and drafting an order announcing who he is and that he's taking over. Turns out not all Great men light up a room the minute they enter it. I took liberties with why poor Oglesby is so stressed and such, but that's about it in terms of artistic license.


End file.
